


One hundred suns until we part

by atamasco



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, POV John Silver, Swordfighting, flint is being soft, silver is having emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 12:25:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10662549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atamasco/pseuds/atamasco
Summary: 'What is there to say to a friend who has suffered in ways you can’t imagine? How do you comfort them, if there even is a way you can?’





	One hundred suns until we part

**Author's Note:**

> For the Freedomkink group chat; you guys make me laugh and cry, sometimes at the same time.

He should have seen it coming. Of course Flint would want to know. Of course he would ask Silver about his past. Flint had willingly handed him his own darkest secrets, his deepest self, and there was nothing that Silver could offer in return. 

It’s not that he didn’t want to. He just _couldn’t_. He couldn’t get the words to leave his mouth, he couldn’t go back in time to a place he had sworn he would never return to. It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. He didn’t _want_ it to matter. He didn’t want it to be relevant between him and Flint. 

He had asked Flint if he could still trust him like this. Flint didn’t answer, and Silver knew enough. The rest of their sword fighting lesson was carried out in silence.

*

That night Silver lay awake in his bed, tossing and turning. He kept seeing Flints face in front of him, his mouth a stern line and a distant look in his eyes. He kept hearing his voice, asking him to do the impossible. He had always told himself that his past didn’t define him. Even so, his past was now defining his relationship with Flint. After all it had taken to get them close, it had moved Flint away from him. Their unspoken conflict hung in the air between them, like an icy mist in which they were bound to get lost. 

He didn't want it to end like this. It infuriated him, the way his past clung to him and defined every step he took. It infuriated him how after all he had done to cut himself loose from the horrors he had been through they always kept coming back to destroy any chance he might have of having something good for himself. He had always been able to run away, from people who were hurting him, from places he felt trapped in. But he could not do that anymore. The loss of his leg had tied him down. All he was, was an invalid and a shit swordsman and a shit friend. And it bothered him. 

He sat up straight at the edge of the bed, allowing his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark of the room. He searched for a light, a piece of paper and a graphite pencil. The beginning was difficult; he wondered where he should start. _I could just make something up_ , he thought. _I could fake a story, give Flint what he wants and we’ll be fine_. He quickly discarded the thought. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. 

He had done this before, many moons ago. It seemed so long ago that he wrote down the contents of the log page from his memory, to prove himself to Flint. He had never thought that he would one day find himself in a similar position again. Showing Flint that he could trust him, that despite his nature he was able to tell the truth, if he wanted. They had become so close. How could he ever have suspected the vortex he would be pulled into when he stole a piece of paper he didn’t even know the purpose of? 

He stuck to the facts as he remembered them, cold and bare. Once he had started, there was no turning back. It was not an easy task however. Some parts were a blur, while others were still too sharp in his mind, forcing him to stop writing and take a moment to sit back and breathe. 

Sunlight was slipping through the cracks of the wooden hut when he finally put his pencil down. Now he had something to offer Flint. He could still think of whether he wanted to. And if he did, all he had to do was hand the paper to Flint and that would be it and they would be on even terms again. 

*

In the afternoon they were up on the hill again. Before Flint could grab his sword, Silver extended his arm to him with the letter in his hand. ‘Here’, he said. ‘This is what you asked. This is the truth.’ Silver swallowed. ‘Please destroy it after you’ve read it.’ Flint stared at him for a moment, then slowly took the paper from Silvers hand. He looked at the folded letter, fumbled with it in his hands. For a second Silver feared that Flint would read it there and then and Silver wasn’t sure if he could take that, but Flint wrapped the paper in his coat that lay discarded in the grass. And that was it. They didn’t speak of it anymore and continued their lesson as usual.

*

The next day, Silver climbed the hill with dread. Flint would have read his writings the night before, or maybe in the early morning, and there was no way that he would leave it unmentioned, something that was so important to him. He wondered what Flint would think of him, now that he knew him. 

There was no mention of his writings or his past that afternoon. They continued their practice as usual, Flint giving Silver instructions and Silver trying to remember everything at once but he kept finding the tip of Flints sword on his shoulder. 

Maybe he should have been relieved that Flint apparently wasn’t going to talk to him about it, but it just made Silver nervous. Did he not believe it? Had he read it at all? Was he waiting for Silver to mention it? He couldn’t tell anything by how Flint acted. There was nothing out of the ordinary about him. 

*

It had been three days since Silver had handed Flint his grim past, neatly written down on a piece of paper. There was a tension growing in Silver that came with not knowing where he and Flint were at, with not knowing what exactly Flint knew about him at this point in time. And it affected him, as was visible in their duels. Silver would make stupid mistakes that he should have been past by now, that he had been past. He kept looking at Flints eyes, hoping to find an answer there, but every time he would get lost in those depths of blue and green until a sword at his throat brought him back to the surface. 

‘We will take a break’, Flint said after the umpteenth time he had beaten him that afternoon, but Silver didn’t want to. He was drenched in sweat, the white-hot sun was burning on his skin, his mouth was dry and his breath came ragged but he did not want to rest. ‘I’m fine’, he said. Flint ignored his words, reached for the sack of fresh water he had brought with him and drank. He offered it to Silver, but Silver did not move. Flint turned away and looked out over the sea. 

‘I read it’, he said. ‘What you wrote.’

Silver froze. His breath halted in his lungs. 

‘I don’t know what to say, really’ he continued. He turned back to Silver and looked at him, meeting his eyes. ‘Other than that I am truly sorry. No one should have to suffer like you did.’

A light wind brushed his face, rustled through the grass, pulled on Flints bright white shirt as they stood there. He knew now. He knew him fully, completely, like no one had ever known him before, like he had sworn no one would ever get to know him. Silver had wondered about what this moment would feel like, but right now his mind was blank. 

‘Thank you. For trusting me,’ Flint said. 

At first Silver didn’t understand what was happening. His eyes started to burn. He stood unstable on his one leg and his crutch, even though he was holding himself just fine when they were sparring just moments ago. There was a lump forming in his throat, his shoulders started shaking and a sob escaped him. 

His body was slipping out of his control and it terrified him. He brought his hand up to his face to hide himself from Flint. He didn’t want to stand there whining like a baby in front of his Captain but he couldn’t stop it. Everything he had been able to hold inside was pouring out of him. He expected Flint to laugh at him, or to scold him. Get yourself together. Don’t be weak. Stop crying. Be a big boy. 

What he didn’t expect was Flint placing a hand on his shoulder. He gently pulled Silver closer to him and took him into his arms. Silver huffed in protest but he let him. Flints arms were wrapped around him, holding him, steadying him, while Silver wept into Flints shoulder. Flints body felt solid and warm against his own shivering form. Tears were streaming down his face, his nose was running, he was drooling and basically making a mess of Flints shirt and he hated it, as he had always hated being pitied. He hated making Flint feel like he had to comfort him out of some form of politeness. And to make it even worse, Flint started to whisper to him, things like ‘it’s alright’ and ‘I’m here’ and ‘just let go’, like Silver wasn’t trying to keep himself together with all his might. 

They stood like that on the hill for God knows how long. It might as well have been forever. 

*

Silver sat on his bed, staring into nothingness, when there was a knock on the door. 

‘Come in’ Silver called. 

Flint stepped into the hut. His boots thumped heavy on the floor. He stood in the middle of the room, fidgeting with his rings. 

‘Just wanted to see how you’re doing’ Flint said. ‘After… today’. 

After today, Silver had retreated into his hut with no intention of ever coming out of it again. He felt ashamed and embarrassed. He had tried to do something right by giving Flint his story, and somewhere in the back of his mind he had thought that he would feel better after doing so, but right now there was nothing better. He felt unsettled, like something inside him had shifted and was trying to find a new way to fit. He might as well have written down a lie; it would have been easier. It came naturally to him, after all. 

Silver laughed at Flint. ‘I was being foolish’, he said. ‘I’m sorry for ruining our lesson and wasting your time. Please forget about it.’

‘No need to be sorry. I understand this must be difficult for you.’

Flint sat down next to him on the bed. 

‘Why did you wait to read it until today?’ Silver asked.

‘I didn’t. I read it the same day you gave it to me,’ Flint replied. 

Silver stared at him. ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

Flint took a deep breath. He moved his hand over his shaved scalp, the bristly hairs making a scraping sound against his calloused palms. 

‘What is there to say to a friend who has suffered in ways you can’t imagine? How do you comfort them, if there even is a way you can?’

Heat rose to Silvers cheeks. He clenched his hands into fists. 

‘I do not need your pity’ he said. He wanted it to sound sure, but the words came out weakly. 

‘I do not pity you. I do not regard you any differently.’ 

‘Have you destroyed it?’ 

‘I have. I burnt it, right after reading it. Like you asked.’ 

They sat in silence for a moment. There was a new balance between them that they both didn’t know how to handle yet. 

‘Thank you’, Silver whispered. ‘For doing that. All of it, I mean.’

They had never been closer than in this moment, yet Silver felt as if he didn’t know the man sitting next to him at all. He had seen him beat men to death with his bare fists. He had seen him burn down ships and raise hell to anyone who would cross him. It would have been hard for Silver to imagine that this was the same man as the one who had held him tenderly on the hill if he hadn’t known the driving force behind all Flints deeds. 

It still seemed strange to Silver, that the final barrier that was left between them had gone up in smoke. It was like a stone had been lifted from his heart. There was nothing standing in between them anymore that pushed them apart. Yet there was so much between them bringing them closer. There was so much between them that tied them together. He felt thin, exhausted from the physical exercise of that day and from the scattered thoughts flying through his head. He wanted to do something reckless, because he was empty and he had nothing left to lose. 

They were facing each other. Flint noticed the shift in Silver’s demeanour. He looked at him, wondering, waiting. Silver closed the distance between them and kissed Flint. It was only a brush of their lips against each other, dry and warm and prickly from their beards. Flint held still for a moment, then cupped Silvers face with his hands and kissed him properly. He opened his mouth and licked Silvers lips, making him whimper. 

This was what it was like to be honest with Flint. It was frightening because it made him feel vulnerable, like he had opened his chest and let Flint reach inside to touch his heart. But it was also liberating, confirming, validating, to give another person the ugliest parts of yourself and receive only kindness in return. For the first time in his life he didn’t want to take. He wanted to give. All his time, all his love, all of him, to Flint. 

He thought there were no more tears left in him, but they welled up in his eyes again, started streaming down his face again. Flint wiped them away with his thumb. 

‘I’m sorry’ Silver blubbered. 

‘Don’t be.’

Flint brushed his fingers through Silvers dark curls in a caring gesture, but got stuck in the tangles of Silvers hair, tugging at his scalp. Flint blushed as he tried to get his hand free, and they both couldn’t suppress their laughs when Silver had to take Flints hand to help him untangle himself. 

They were no-good pirates and they didn’t deserve anything good. But in this lawless, meaningless world they had claimed something good for their own.

**Author's Note:**

> After writing many drabbles, this is the first fic that I have actually finished writing, and the first one I've ever published. Thank you for reading!  
> 


End file.
